


The Games People Play

by Caro Dee (Caro_Dee)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Case, Challenge: Sentinel Thursday, Games, Gen, Humor, Word Search
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_Dee/pseuds/Caro%20Dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair have to solve a murder at a high society party and find that someone is playing games with them.</p><p>This story is a word find challenge to the readers. There are 123 games (card, board, kid, sports, etc.) hidden within the text. Some games are easy to find, others are cleverly hidden (Translation: misspelled, contorted, punned, and... yes, I resorted to foreign accents. *hangs head in shame*).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Games People Play

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2004 for sentinel_thurs challenge #41: Games. I decided to write a story in which the names of games were hidden in the story. Andi, Daychilde, Fletcher, Goldsea, Lyonesse, Marion, pamh, Bluewolf, and WoD provided game suggestions that I incorporated in the story. Betaed by Bluewolf and Goldsea.

"See, Jim, ever since the dawn of civilization, men have played games. There are all these games that are found in the most unexpected places. For example..."

Jim sighed, a feeling of doom rising as he realized he couldn't escape another Sandburg lecture. And all because he'd made some lame joke about how playing cops and robbers made kids think being a criminal would be fun.

"Ellison! Sandburg!" Ah. Saved by the bell. Jim jumped up to dart into Simon's office, followed more sedately by Blair.

"There's been a murder at the Van Smythe residence up in Wyndham Heights. The Mayor's not only a friend of the family but such a 'messy and inconvenient crime', with its attendant 'distasteful publicity', among Cascade's wealthy, may put campaign contributions in jeopardy. So of course he ‘requested’ that I assign my best men to the case."

Jim groaned in protest. "Can't you assign your _other_ best men? We're about to break the burglary ring." A series of clever burglaries among the wealthier homes in Cascade was nothing Major Crimes would normally have handled, until a young man had come home early, apparently surprised the thieves, and been murdered. Sandburg had a theory....

"Jim, who's the boss here?"

"You are, Simon."

"And when Simon says, 'Jump', you say...?"

"How high?"

Simon grinned ferociously. "That's right. You have to follow the leader just like I do. Joel and Megan can handle the burglary/murder case. Now go and solve it quickly, gentlemen. I don't need this aggravation from the Mayor."

* * *

Blair braced himself against the dashboard and offered up another prayer for their safe arrival. Jim was obviously feeling a bit pissed, and driving faster than usual. With Jim's reflexes, Blair generally didn't worry too much, but...

"Red light!"

"Green light, Sandburg. Relax." Jim drove through the suddenly changed light and looked over at Blair. "You're not normally this much of a wimp."

Blair bit back the cross words that leaped to mind and replied in a dignified manner, "I think Simon would be pretty upset if we happened to die before we solved the murder."

Jim chuckled. "The Mayor would be aching to kick the can on Simon's ass."

Blair snickered at the image. "I'd pay good money to see that. Oh hey, can you hand me my pack, man?"

Jim reached behind the seats and pulled up the backpack with difficulty. "What have you got in here? Bricks?"

"A little bit of everything. You never know what'll come in handy. But the serious weight is some exams a fellow TA asked me to go over. She thinks there's some chance of major cheating; somebody selling the answers. We normally expect a little cheating and catch it easily. Students will always sneak in cheatsheets, copy off a classmate's answers, minor cribbage like that. But this is going to be a major scandal, so she wants a second opinion before she goes to the Dean."

"Damn, that's rough," Jim commiserated. He made a left turn and then they were there at the crime scene.

The Van Smythes' house was actually a mansion and lit up for the party.

"Wow," said Blair. "The Van Smythes are loaded."

Jim held up his police badge for the gate security and got waved through. "No need to be too impressed, Chief. I've been to parties like this with my dad and I've seen behind the glitz. The rich may think their money makes them king of the hill, but it's pretty much just a charade. Money does not buy happiness, believe me. Come on."

Jim parked his truck, and they walked up the long drive and rang the doorbell. The butler answered. "Good evening, gentlemen. May I see your invitation cards?"

Jim pulled out his police badge. "My invitation is right here."

"Ah yes, Mrs. Van Smythe is expecting you. She told me to escort you to her immediately."

"She'll have to wait."

The butler tutted with disapproval as Jim waved away the coat checkers trying to relieve them of their light jackets and turned towards the uniformed policewoman hovering in the foyer. Blair smiled apologetically at the butler and hurried after Jim.

The officer greeted Jim with relief. Policewoman Ana Gram looked distinctly uncomfortable in the opulent surroundings.

"What's the situation?" Jim asked.

"We got the call about an hour ago, got here and cordoned off the body. My partner, Officer Jenga, is up there now. The Coroner and Forensics are both working the scene. I was about to start taking witness statements, but I've had some problems getting cooperation here. The guests keep calling the Mayor and the Chief of Police and complaining about the interruption to their party."

They traded commiserating looks. Jim said, "We'll take a look at the body and start interviewing the residents and staff. You go ahead with the guests. Unless somebody's got blood all over them or behaves suspiciously, once you've got statements and addresses, they're free to leave. I'll send Jenga down to help you."

Gram nodded. "Hi, Sandburg," she said, smiling warmly at the anthropologist as she passed by him heading off to the ballroom area.

"Hey, Ana. How're you doing?" Blair watched her walk away. He turned back to find Jim staring at him, quizzically. "What?"

Jim shook his head. "Nothing, Chief. Let's go look at a dead body."

* * *

"Hi, Sam. Guess you beat us here."

"Hi, Blair. Jim."

"What have we got?"

"Female, brunette, blue eyes, approx. 5'4", early twenties. Death was by blunt trauma to the head. Looks like she was hit from behind. There's evidence of a struggle so maybe we'll get something from the fingernails. Someone took a big risk killing her during the party."

The murder victim lay limp and still on the fine oriental rug. Unexpectedly, she was not dressed for the party, but wore a black uniform.

"She work here?"

"No, sir," Officer Jenga spoke up. "She works for the outfit that's catering for this party."

"Hmm, wonder what she's doing so far from the party then. This room is halfway across the house from the ballroom." Jim bent down to carefully examine the bloody mess that was the side of her head. "She was killed by a long, blunt instrument."

"Like a poker, maybe?" Blair offered. "It's missing from the fireplace."

"Could be. We'll have to find it though. Did she have anything on her?"

Samantha handed him the evidence bags. Jim sorted through them and picked up her I.D. -- Lurlene Annabelle Gooch. The driver's license was Washington State issue, but he'd bet with that name she hadn't been born here. He handed it off to Blair, who looked at it and winced. "Wow, that's some tongue twister."

Jim looked over the contents of her pockets. Used Kleenex, keys, lipstick, a candy bar, a tic tac, toe nail clippers, two pairs of surgical gloves, and -- hello! A small camera. How interesting. "Take a look at this, Sandburg."

"Seems pretty typical, except for the camera."

"What about those gloves?"

"She handles food, Jim. Probably carries them in her pocket in case she runs into an unexpected food handling emergency."

"Maybe."

* * *

"Now, I'd like to talk with Mrs. Van Smythe."

The butler led them past the foyer towards an elevator. They passed the ballroom again with the sounds of a subdued party going on.

"Mrs. Van Smythe is in her private sitting room waiting for you. Second floor, to the left."

Jim pushed the button, the doors closed and the elevator slowly moved upwards.

"Wow," said Blair, eyes wide. "She not only has an elevator; she has elevator _music_."

"Yeah," Jim said drily. "The best of Burt Baccarat."

Blair snickered. "That's Bacharach, Jim."

"I knew that."

Entering the room, they found Mrs. Van Smythe waiting in a chair, with a lovely Irish setter at her feet. She was a stately old battleship of a woman, with an elegant, white coiffure and wearing a long, antique-white gown. There was a diamond necklace around her throat and diamonds glittered in her ears. Jim's eyes rested momentarily on her right hand.

The dog seemed to sense a threat to his mistress and leaped up, barking at the intruders. "Hush, Red Rover," murmured Mrs. Van Smythe and the dog subsided reluctantly. "My apologies. I'm Penelope Van Smythe and I do hope you can solve this dreadful murder quickly."

"I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Blair smiled a little ruefully as the old battle-ax examined him -- long hair, ratty jeans, old flannel shirt -- and appeared distinctly unimpressed. She turned to Jim and asked, "Any relationship to William Ellison?"

Jim's face grew stern, but he knew that who you knew mattered to these kinds of people, so he nodded. "My father."

Mrs. Van Smythe's posture relaxed slightly and she smiled at Jim. "Of course, dear William. Please give him my best. Now what can I do for you?"

"Did you know the deceased?"

"She was a servant, here with the catering service. I've never seen her before tonight," she answered, coolly. Her heartbeat was a little elevated, but not enough to indicate she was lying.

"Did you murder her?"

"No."

"Do you know who did murder her?"

"No, I don't."

Jim nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Van Smythe. I'd like to talk with Mr. Van Smythe now."

"He's currently in London, looking into an investment opportunity concerning a theme park involving various London attractions, such as the London Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, that sort of thing. I would have liked to go with him," she added wistfully. "The Royal Shakespeare Company is putting on a wonderful production of Othello, but this party was already scheduled and I couldn't leave."

They were interrupted as a beautiful young blonde came rushing in, her dress so short and gauzy that it more resembled a peek-a-boo nightie than a party outfit. "Mother, should I tell the caterers to start serving the food? The guests are getting restless and I don't know what to do!"

"Excellent idea, darling." The older woman turned to the detectives. "This is my daughter, Barbie. Barbie, these are the police assigned to find out who murdered that poor young woman."

"Oh, hi," Barbie said to Jim politely and then turned to Blair, smile widening. "Hi, there."

"Hi," Blair said, looking dazed and staring at her rack. "Oh, my God. I'd love to play spin the bottle with her," he whispered in a sentinel-soft voice.

Jim's mouth twitched and he elbowed Blair.

Barbie took a closer look at her mother and exclaimed, "Why, Mother, where's your cane?"

"I don't know. It seems to be missing. I've sent for one of my others, but it's taking forever for Hilda to get here."

"You use a cane?" Jim inquired.

"Hip replacement. The operation was successful but I'm healing slower than I'd like. It's fortunate that we had the elevator installed two years ago."

"What does the cane look like? Perhaps we'll find it as we search the house."

Mrs. Van Smythe looked displeased at the thought of a house search. "It's ebony with a silver handle in the shape of a swan."

Just then the maid tottered in, carrying the replacement cane. Blair thought he'd never seen such an old maid -- the poor thing looked well past retirement age.

"Thank you, Hilda. Are we done here, gentlemen?"

"Maybe Barbie could show us around the place?" Blair suggested.

"Oh, Mother, may I?"

Jim tried not to flinch at her high-pitched squeal. He had no desire to have a possible suspect tag along while they were trying to put the pieces of this jigsaw puzzle together. "We'll find our own way. We wouldn't want to take you away from your guests."

Barbie nodded wistfully and left, still eyeing Blair.

Mrs. Van Smythe turned to them with an unhappy frown. "I'd appreciate it if you could resolve this quickly and discretely, Detective. My guests aren't used to this sort of thing. This isn't what they expected when they were invited to a dinner party."

"Someone was murdered," Jim pointed out sternly. "I think that's a little more important than your social event."

The woman flushed. "Of course. I'm sorry, Detective, but it's not as if Emily Post ever discussed how to host a murder."

"We understand this is stressful for you and your guests," Blair said soothingly. "But we do have procedure to follow. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Van Smythe smiled graciously. "I know you will do your best. Excuse me, I have to join my guests now." She rose and proceeded to slowly make her way out of the room. When Blair started after her, Jim pulled him back a moment.

"Listen, Romeo. I know you've got ants in the pants, but cool it on the job. Remember, you're not Barbie's dream date. What would she see in a penniless grad student? She could even be the murderer for all we know."

"Aw Jim, sometimes people just have to follow their hearts. But I'll be professional, I promise."

"You're wasting your time there."

"Love is _never_ a trivial pursuit," Blair informed him optimistically.

* * *

They were heading down to the kitchen level in the elevator when Jim's cell phone rang. "Ellison."

"What have you got for me, Jim?"

"Simon, we just got here."

"Anything. Give me anything, Jim. I've got to call the Chief back."

"Want me to have Sandburg consult his Ouija board?" Jim grinned at Blair, who started humming the theme from the Twilight Zone.

"Ellison!"

"Well, you can tell the Chief that the Van Smythes are probably not the killers. Pending verification, he was out of the country and she's recovering from an operation and not likely to be running around killing the staff."

Silence and then a heavy sigh. "Well, it's something. Keep me posted."

* * *

Jim and Blair entered the kitchen, where the harried staff scurried about under the sharp, watchful eyes of a very large man wearing a chef's hat.

"Excuse me," Jim said.

The man whirled around and yelled dramatically, "Mah jongg man, you distarb ze chef at heez wark! No one do zees!"

"Wow," said Blair. "That's the worst French accent I've ever heard."

The man stopped, stared at Blair, then shrugged and laughed. "Yeah, well... the clients expect it. What can I do for you guys?"

"You can start by telling me who you are," said Jim, showing his badge.

"My name is Black, Jack Black... the caterer, not the actor. Lurlene worked for me. Wonderful gal. This is such a tragedy. Anything I can do to help catch the killer, just let me know."

A pretty young woman in caterer's uniform came into the kitchen. "They're running low on booze up there, boss."

"Uno momento," Black turned away and began hauling bottles of alcohol out of the cases stacked to one side.

"You seem to be serving quite a bit of alcohol at this party," Jim said disapprovingly.

"That's why Black Catering is doing so well. We serve the best food and keep the drinks flowing. Being chintzy is a false economy in this business. We have some excellent brands here, including an excellent microbrewery beer made with organic hops, scotch, including Islay Myst, cognac, vodka, gin, rum...

"My, is that champagne?" asked Blair.

"May I offer you some?"

"Well, I am feeling a little parch-- Easy there, Jim!" Blair bent down to rub his shin resentfully. "That hurt."

"Sorry!" said Jim, completely unrepentant.

"Guess not, Mr. Black, I'm on duty." Blair looked regretfully at the champagne.

"I like to keep my guests happy. That's what makes for repeat customers. Actually, these society folks can drink like sponges. Pretty soon they'll be giving the serving staff tiddly winks and pinching butts left and right. Then they'll descend on my beautiful buffet like a horde of hungry, hungry hippos!" Black shuddered. "It's a terrifying sight."

"I was wondering what smelled so good." Blair opened and peered inside the oven, ignoring Black's abortive grab. "Duck?"

"Duck."

"Goose is more to my taste, but this smells wonderful."

"If you two are quite done discussing the menu," Jim said with exaggerated patience. "Can we get back to the little matter of murder?"

The two men looked sheepish. "Of course, Detective."

"Mr. Black, do you have any idea who might have killed Miss Gooch?"

"She was a sweet girl. I don't see how anybody could want to hurt her." Black turned and shrieked, "Patty! Cake batter is not like mixing concrete. A _light_ touch is sufficient." The woman with the mixing bowl murmured apologetically and Black turned back to Jim.

"How long have you known her?"

"I've only been in business for six months. Lurlene has been with me since the beginning."

"Was she a good employee?"

"I have no complaints."

Blair was watching the other employee, whose name tag said 'Theresa', roll her eyes as she arranged the bottles on a tray while listening in. He decided to casually move over and start up a conversation. "You don't think Lurlene was a good employee?"

Theresa glanced over at Black and lowered her voice. "Look, I liked Lurlene. We even hung out together, but the girl was a flake. Every time we did a job, she'd go off by herself for half an hour or longer, leaving me to do all the serving. Most of the time, Jack was okay with it; sometimes, he'd go off to track her down and they'd be a while getting back." Theresa grinned. "I always figured they were making use of an empty room, you know?"

"Black and Lurlene were dating?"

"She never said so, but I always assumed. They'd whisper a lot and stop when I came in the room, that kind of thing."

"Can you think of any reason for someone to murder her?"

Theresa looked sad for a moment, then said, "We went out for drinks pretty regularly. Lately, Lurlene's been anxious, told me she was in trouble but wouldn't say what kind. I'm pretty sure it was gambling. I went with her to a casino once, and when she started playing it was like she'd lost all her marbles. Then something changed. We went out last payday and she was excited, told me she was done with the hard scrabble life. That she was about to come out on top in the game of life. But she wouldn't tell me what it was about."

"That's really interesting, Theresa. Thanks." Blair caught Jim's eye. Jim nodded and finished up his questioning of Black. "So, Theresa. What do you do when you're not catering to the rich?"

Leaving the kitchen, Blair filled Jim in on what he'd found out. The two men stared at each other. "Sound familiar, Jim?"

"Yeah, it does. Maybe we've got more than one case here."

"Megan and Joel will be disappointed."

"Hey, it was our case to begin with."

* * *

Using his sentinel senses, Jim did a quick but thorough search of the house and then moved out onto the grounds. The mansion grounds were beautifully landscaped, with trees carefully obscuring the security fence from the house. In the back, where one could sit on the terrace and enjoy the view, was a lily pond with a small, decorative bridge crossing over it. Jim saw a glint of something shining from the bottom of the pond.

"I spy something down there. Get me something with a hook and I'll go fish it out."

Blair ran back to the house and returned with a straightened hanger.

Jim knelt down and carefully maneuvered the hanger through the mud. "Gotcha," he said triumphantly and began pulling it up. Just as the small item was lifted from the water, it slipped off the hanger and fell, kerplunk!, back into the pond.

Jim swore and tried again, successfully this time, to pull the object up. With absentminded distaste, he shook a crawling slug bug off his hand and examined the result of his treasure hunt. It was a large diamond solitaire ring. Inside were the initials R.P.G. "Bingo."

"I'd say that was a clue."

"There's something else down there. Get Forensics over here."

While Forensics set up their equipment, Samantha just shook her head at Jim. "What kind of scavenger hunt are you running here? You better be right, because this is not my idea of a good time." She turned to her team. "Be careful, guys. You know how dangerous stagnant pond water is."

Bill Henderson, her second-in-command, laughed. "Yes, Boss, we'll stay away from the nasty pond cooties."

When Forensics first pulled up an ebony cane with silver swan handle, they thought for sure they'd found the murder weapon. Then, a few seconds later, the golf club was found. That was followed by a baseball bat, a hockey stick, another golf club, a rake, two spades, a single ski, three croquet mallets, polo and lacrosse sticks, several rusty horseshoes, and about a gross of golf balls. Jim was starting to suspect Van Smythe had made his fortune in the sporting goods industry and this pool of water was his dump site.

"Man, it's like a gigantic game of pick up sticks," Blair said in awe. "These are all long, blunt objects."

"But none of them are the murder weapon."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yeah, there's no blood here. Come on, let's go back to the murder scene."

* * *

Lurlene Gooch was already on her way to the morgue. Jim stood there, attention focused on where the body had lain. Blair came forward, put his hand on Jim's back and began the guide spiel. "Okay, Jim. You know what to do. Relax and allow yourself to take in the room. Look for anything anomalous. Concentration is the key."

Jim stood there, eyes sweeping the room. Suddenly, he stiffened. "Blood. Over there." He took off, Blair at his heels. Jim walked through the halls until he came to an abrupt halt. "There," he said.

"Where?" Blair said, bewildered. "You mean, the laundry chute?"

Jim bent down and sniffed. "There's the scent of blood all over this." Carefully, he put on some plastic gloves and gingerly pushed open the flap and reeled back. "The murder weapon's down there."

"I am not going down the chute, Jim."

Jim gave him a dirty look and said, "Basement."

When they got there, having startled the kitchen and cleaning staff, Jim carefully rummaged through the large industrial laundry basket. "It's not here." He looked up at the chute. "It's still up there."

Blair protested enough that Jim impatiently offered to arm wrestle for the job. Two minutes later, Blair found himself climbing a ladder and sticking his head into the dark, narrow passage. "I hate heights! Trees, planes, elevators... Now it's chutes and ladders! How do I get myself into this?" he muttered. "Oh hey, I see it. It's caught by one end. Hand me a glove."

"Careful, Chief."

Blair emerged triumphant, a bloody poker in his hand. "One murder weapon coming up."

"Let's get this to Forensics and see if they can pull any prints off it."

Jim's cell phone rang. "Anything to report, Jim? The Mayor is calling every ten minutes and I'm tired of playing dodgeball with him."

"It's coming along, Simon. We've found the murder weapon, but don't have a clear suspect yet."

Simon sighed. "I know you're doing your best, Jim. Keep me updated."

* * *

Mrs. Van Smythe was not happy. She stared at the ring as if it were a snake.

"So, is this your ring?"

"No, Detective, it is not."

Jim smiled grimly as her heartbeat started to race. "Then where is the ring you were wearing?" At her startled look, Jim continued, "There's a red indentation on your right hand ring finger. It looks like you've been wearing a ring for a long time and just recently removed it."

She remained stubbornly silent.

"I could ask the staff or some of your guests to identify this ring as yours, if you'd prefer we do it that way."

Mrs. Van Smythe seemed to summon a grateful smile with some difficulty. "Why yes, Detective Ellison. Now that I take a closer look, it _is_ my ring. Thank you so much for finding it."

"Mind telling me why the initials inside don't match yours? You don't look the type to wear a secondhand ring."

The old woman looked like a rat caught in a mousetrap with the cat closing in. Reluctantly, she said, "It was an engagement ring from my husband almost thirty years ago. My former name was..." she took a deep breath and spit the words out with distaste, "...Raylene Penelope Gooch."

Jim went on the alert. "Any relationship to Lurlene Gooch?"

"My cousin's daughter. I haven't seen my family in over thirty years, but apparently I look like my cousin and she recognized me."

"She was blackmailing you?"

"Yes, she threatened to expose me to all my guests downstairs. I would have been completely socially ostracized. My God, the last time we were in New York City, we attended one of Donald Trump's parties. We would never have been invited again. It would have ruined Barbie's chances at an advantageous marriage. She wanted money right then and there and I didn't have it. So she demanded the ring." Mrs. Van Smythe looked at Jim pleadingly. "But I didn't kill her."

Jim nodded. "I know you didn't."

Just then a man carrying a walky-talky approached Mrs. Van Smythe and began discussing a problem. Security had detected an attempt to access the security system password. Jim made a mental note of that and looked over at Blair, who was whispering in a corner with Barbie.

"So when was that taken?" Blair was admiring a photo on the wall of Barbie in a bikini lounging on a boat.

"That was last summer on our yacht, Zebra IV." Barbie smiled invitingly. "So, do you sail at all, Blair?"

From the smug smile Blair was sporting, Jim figured Blair was making progress. He gestured to Blair, who reluctantly took his leave of Barbie, and followed Jim out of the room.

"So you're sure she didn't do it, huh?"

"Get real, Sandburg. Why would she toss the real murder weapon down the chute where the servants would find it and then walk all the way to the pond to toss in her own cane and her diamond ring, thereby making herself a suspect?

"She'd have a hard time walking back without the cane," Blair said, thoughtfully.

"Someone wants to distract us and I think I know who."

"You think it was one of the servants? They'd know about the laundry chute and maybe figure they could sneak it out before anyone else found it."

"Not exactly."

* * *

They were headed back to the kitchen when Samantha intercepted them. She handed him a report. "Got the fingerprint results back. Here's your guy."

"Wow, Sam," said Blair with admiration, "That was quick."

Samantha shrugged. "The Chief said this case was top priority. You jumped to the head of the line. Besides..." She quirked a meaningful eyebrow at Blair, who looked confused. "I've got better things to do tonight."

Jim read the report and smiled with satisfaction. "Our murderer is David Pensky. Convicted of breaking and entering, burglary, possession of stolen goods and resisting arrest. He served four years and his parole officer states that he finished a training program for a new career. I'll give you three guesses."

Blair craned his neck to see the small photo in the report. David Pensky looked a lot like Jack Black. "You were right, Jim."

* * *

This time, when the watchful Black caught sight of them as he was preparing strawberries for the dessert, something in their expressions or postures alerted him and he bolted out the kitchen door.

"Police!" Jim shouted. "You're under arrest." The kitchen staff scattered as Jim and Blair ran past them.

Black was fast for such a heavy guy. He was almost to the trees before Jim pulled out his gun and yelled, "Stop or I'll shoot." Black bobbed and wove enough that Jim couldn't get a bead on him, and then he was in the trees.

"He's making for the fence," Jim threw over his shoulder and ran after Black. Jim was in better shape and was right behind the man when they burst out of the trees by the tall fence. Jim made a flying leap just as the jumping Jack grabbed at the top of the fence to pull himself up and over. Both men fell backwards and Jim's gun went flying off.

Blair arrived to find Jim desperately trying to subdue the larger man. Encouragingly, he shouted, "Go, Jim! Rock 'em. Sock 'em!"

Jim grit his teeth. "Snap out of your boxing flashback, Sandburg, and help me. Fighting this guy is like wrestling a barrel of monkeys."

Blair shook off his backpack and quickly searched through it for something useful. Finding a piece of rope, he began circling the two of them, ready to jump -- rope in hand -- as soon as he saw an opening.

Throwing himself into the fray, he tried to grab Pensky's feet and tangle them in the rope. A well-placed kick momentarily stunned him. Pensky got in a lucky hit to Jim's jaw and pulled away long enough to grab Blair and hold a knife to his throat.

"Keep away or I'll kill him!"

Jim froze. It was only a paring knife, but sharp enough to sever the carotid artery in the hands of someone who knew what he was doing.

"Oh man, oh man," Blair muttered. "You don't want to do this, David. We've got your fingerprints, we've got your name and photo. You killing a cop will only make this ten times worse."

"Shut up!" Pensky snarled desperately.

Blair caught Jim's eye and nodded. As Blair began to struggle ineffectually but distractingly, Jim dove and rolled and came up with the dropped gun in his hand. He pressed it to the man's temple and snarled, "Unless you feel like playing Russian roulette and losing, Pensky, I suggest you release Sandburg right now!"

"I could still cut his throat," Pensky insisted.

"But you'd be too dead to enjoy it, creep."

Pensky's eyes darted furiously back and forth. Seeing no escape, he dropped the knife and shoved Sandburg aside. Jim cuffed him and read him his rights with satisfaction.

Blair rubbed his throat where the knife had been and asked the murderer, "Was it worth it? Killing that poor girl? Because you're going to hang, man."

"Are you going to tell me the truth, or dare me to knock it out of you?" Jim shook the man savagely.

"She was holding out on me. Her cut was twenty-five percent, but she was trying to keep the ring for herself. We struggled and then she was dead. It was an accident."

"Right," Jim said. "You accidentally picked up the poker and hit her from behind. The jury's gonna love that story."

"And it was all for nothing," Pensky lamented. "The ring was too hot after that and I had to toss it. Broke my heart."

* * *

Watching the uniforms take Pensky into custody, Jim glanced over at Blair, who was looking pensive. "What's wrong?"

"You know, that must have been hard on Lurlene," Blair said, thoughtfully. "Being poor all her life and then working here in rich people's houses. She must have felt like a starving kid staring at Candyland. Then she thought she had a chance to live like that herself."

"Don't feel too bad for her, Chief," Jim pointed out. "She was a gambler, a thief, and a blackmailer."

"She still didn't deserve to be murdered."

"Of course not, but she chose to enter a lifestyle that put her in harm's way and suffered the consequences."

"All for a lousy diamond ring. It makes me boggle, Jim, that that was enough reason to kill another human being."

"Nobody has a monopoly on greed, Sandburg. Even the rich murder occasionally."

Blair nodded soberly. But a minute later, he was snickering. "I was just thinking, Jim. As Jack Black the Caterer, he snookered his victims into getting snockered so he could case the joint." Blair continued chuckling, mumbling "snooker, snocker" under his breath, as Jim rolled his eyes.

"Very funny, Chief. Let's give Simon the good news."

The phone was answered by Rhonda. "Oh hi, Jim. I'm running interference for Simon. Let me put you through."

"Jim! What've you got for me?"

"Case solved, Simon. The murderer was one David Pensky a.k.a. Jack Black, who had a falling out with his fellow crook arguing over the spoils."

"Come again?"

"What would you say if I told you I could connect four burglaries and a murder among Cascade's wealthiest to the murder here at the Van Smythes?"

"I guess I'd have to say Megan and Joel are off the case. Good work, Jim. The Chief and the Mayor will be pretty pleased to hear you've solved the puzzle this quickly. Makes us look good in the media. They've been saying we've mishandled the burglary case from the beginning and the crooks have been playing blind man's bluff with us."

"We'll be in tomorrow to take care of the paperwork, Simon." Jim hung up and turned to Blair. "Let's go home. I think I'll pick up a pizza from Domino's on the way."

Blair was bouncing alongside him a little too energetically. Jim recognized the signs and grinned. This was going to be fun. "Sooo, who's your musical chairs mystery date tonight?"

"What do you mean, Jim?"

"You made a date tonight with Barbie, right?"

Blair beamed happily. "I know, it's bowling me over too. But she digs the Sandburg charm."

"You mentioned the other day you were taking Sam out tonight to see a movie and I distinctly overheard you planning to meet Theresa when she got off-shift at some dance club."

Just then, Officer Gram walked up. "Oh, Blair, I'm glad I caught you. Don't forget the game's tonight." She turned to Jim. "I can't tell you how glad I am to find somebody else as into women's basketball as I am. Go, Rainier Lionesses! Right, Blair?" With a cheerful smile, she headed over to her patrol car.

Jim grinned gleefully. "I'm impressed. I don't think I could juggle four dates in one night without dropping a ball here or there."

Blair turned a terrified, pleading gaze on his friend. "Oh my God, they're gonna kill me. I'm skating on thin ice with Sam anyway. What am I gonna do? Jim? Jim!"

"You're the mastermind, Don Juan. You figure it out."

"Aw, _Jiiiim_...."

End Game

 **Check out the next chapter for a list of all the games used in this story. How many did you find?**


	2. The List of Games

List of games used in story:

1 - Aggravation

2 - Anagram (Ana Gram)

3 - Ants in the Pants

4 - Arm wrestle

5 - Baccarat

6 - Ball

7 - Barbie's Dream Date

8 - Barrel of Monkeys

9 - Baseball

10 - Basketball

11 - Battleship

12 - Bingo

13 - Blackjack (Black, Jack)

14 - Blind Man's Bluff

15 - Boggle

16 - Bowling

17 - Boxing

18 - Bridge

19 - Candyland

20 - Cards

21 - Catch

22 - Charade

23 - Checkers

24 - Chutes and Ladders

25 - Civilization

26 - Clue

27 - Concentration

28 - Connect Four

29 - Consequences

30 - Cootie (cooties)

31 - Cops and Robbers

32 - Cribbage

33 - Croquet

34 - Crosswords (cross words)

35 - Dart

36 - Dodgeball

37 - Dominoes (Domino's)

38 - Doom

39 - Duck Duck Goose

40 - Flinch

41 - Follow the Leader

42 - Gin Rummy (gin, rum... "My,)

43 - Go

44 - Go Fish

45 - Golf

46 - Hangman (hang, man)

47 - Hearts

48 - Hockey

49 - Hopscotch (hops, scotch)

50 - Horseshoes

51 - How To Host a Murder

52 - Hungry Hungry Hippos

53 - I Spy

54 - Jacks (Jack's)

55 - Jenga

56 - Jeopardy

57 - Jigsaw Puzzle

58 - Juggle

59 - Jump Rope (jump -- rope)

60 - Jumping Jack

61 - Keep Away

62 - Kerplunk

63 - Kick the Can

64 - King of the Hill

65 - Lacrosse

66 - London Bridge

67 - Mah Jongg

68 - Marbles

69 - Mastermind

70 - Monopoly

71 - Mother, May I

72 - Mousetrap

73 - Musical Chairs

74 - Myst

75 - Mystery Date

76 - Old Maid

77 - Operation

78 - Othello

79 - Ouija Board

80 - Pacman (pack, man)

81 - Parcheesi (parch--easy)

82 - Password

83 - Patty-cake (Patty! Cake)

84 - Payday

85 - Peek-a-boo

86 - Pick Up Sticks

87 - Poker

88 - Polo

89 - Pool

90 - Puzzle

91 - Race

92 - Racko (rack. "Oh my God)

93 - Red Light/Green Light

94 - Red Rover

95 - Risk

96 - Rock 'em. Sock 'em.

97 - Roulette

98 - RPG - role-playing game

99 - Scavenger Hunt

100 - Scrabble

101 - Simon Says

102 - Skating

103 - Ski

104 - Slug Bug

105 - Snap

106 - Snooker

107 - Solitaire

108 - Sorry!

109 - Spades

110 - Spin the Bottle

111 - Tag

112 - The Game of Life

113 - Tic Tac Toe (tic tac, toe nail)

114 - Tiddly Winks

115 - Treasure Hunt

116 - Trivial Pursuit

117 - Trouble

118 - Trumps (Trump's)

119 - Truth or Dare

120 - Twister

121 - Uno

122 - Wrestling

123 - Yahtzee (yacht, Zebra)


End file.
